Family Close and Enemies Closer
by Sereneffect
Summary: An elusive crime syndicate has terrorized the Citadel for too long, and it is uncertain is C-Sec will ever stop them. The Illusive Man isn't one to give up easily, and, whoever he is, he is all but untouchable. But Executor Pallin has one last plan to take him down: his most passionate and unorthodox officer. Non-Reaper AU, Rated for violence, language, and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**So I had an idea. And it just grew, and grew, and grew... And then the lovely Greenyoda987 told me I had to write it, or she would be sad. And I have to say, it's so much fun. So hopefully you guys like it as much as she and I do! I'm actually going to try to update this one on a more regular basis (we'll see how long _that_ lasts).**

* * *

"The video feed has been patched through, ma'am. The whole Citadel will be seeing this now."

The addressed woman smiled over the rim of her wine glass, slowly swirling the dark red liquid as she paced across the nearly-empty office toward an oversized, polished metal desk. "Excellent, bring it up on my screen." She sat gracefully, golden eyes watching as a holoscreen lowered from the ceiling, and tapped manicured nails against the plush arm of her padded leather chair. A video began to play and, though the image was slightly grainy, it was clear enough that something terrible was about to happen to the man on the screen; he was handsome, even as his eyes darted about, searching for an escape, and his hands grabbed at the arm holding him up by his neck. The woman chuckled quietly, musing that, even in the ferocious winds at the top of the building, the man's hair was still perfect.

"Please," he begged, "You don't have to do this, I won't come back. I'll disappear! Just let me go!"

"Let you go?" The new voice was heavily distorted, drawing a bit of static from her translator, "Are you sure you want that, Commander?" The hand around the man's neck loosened and he cried out in panic. "I thought not."

The woman sipped her wine, expression impassive as the commander continued to beg for his life, casting furtive glances down to the streets of the Presidium far below. His Alliance uniform was torn and dirty, blood smudged across the blue fabric. A bruise was beginning to bloom under the man's jaw and his nose was obviously broken.

"Commander Alenko, _Spectre_ Alenko," the voice sighed in disappointment, "Did you really think you could sneak into my organization and sabotage me? Me?!" The voice demanded, giving the man a shake. When he didn't answer, the voice continued, "You and your government have forgotten who you are dealing with. Spectre or no, you cannot control me, or my people."

"You won't get away with this!" The man's defiance didn't reach his voice, his face still fixed in an expression of terror.

The laugh that came through the audio feed was low and sinister, flanging through the distortion. "I don't expect to. You are to be an example, Kaidan. I fully expect your precious Council to take notice." There was a pause and the man's eyes widened. "Goodbye, Commander Alenko."

The hand holding Kaidan Alenko over the edge released its grip. He didn't even have time to scream before the artificial gravity drew him straight down, his body flailing as he plummeted toward the bustling Commons below. The camera didn't turn, holding its position at the roof's edge until the body slammed into the pristine walkways beside the lakes, painting the shining, metallic surface a grisly red. The video cut off, leaving static, and the woman nodded absently.

"If I may, ma'am, the Council will think twice before they send another spy."

"Yes, I would agree, Ms. Zorah. Thank you, as always. In the meantime, please divert all of my calls until further notice. Be sure to monitor Citadel-wide comms and let me know of any new developments. I'm sure we've just caused quite the stir," the woman replied, turning her chair to stare out the picture window overlooking the Presidium.

"Of course, Shepard, I mean, ma'am."

Shepard smiled, shaking her head slightly but didn't reprimand her tech specialist. Only a few people knew who she was, and even fewer of her position at the top of her… infamous organization. And yet Tali'Zorah was one of her most trusted agents—and a tech wizard—so Shepard felt it would be counterintuitive to try to keep anything from the quarian. Plus, after the brilliant job she had done on the voice distortion, the girl had more than earned the right to call Shepard by her name; the program was ingenious, translating her words into turian common and manipulating the pitch and timbre to the point of being unrecognizable, and then exploited an oversight of translator programming by eliminating all traces of manipulation. Shepard didn't know _how_ but that was irrelevant. The quarian was a genius.

Skycars flew by as she watched, but she knew they couldn't see her; shortly after she had acquired the building, she had replaced all of the glass with tinted, bulletproof polymers. Sure, no one would recognize her as anyone other than Regina Shepard, successful investor and well-known donor to the C-Sec Retirement Fund—they would not see the Illusive Man, head of the Family—yet a little caution never hurt anyone. She chuckled. The syndicate's name was a mix of irony and laziness that always served to entertain her; no one in the organization was related, nor were there many familial sentiments between them, and the name was primarily chosen with the justification that their energies could be better spent on more pressing concerns than a name—like crime. And the Illusive Man… The moniker had passed on to her when her predecessor met an… unfortunate end. Her rise had been the product of deceit, underhanded dealings, and the element of surprise. And a lot of blood. She laid her fingertips over her sternum, feeling the uneven, circular scar in the middle of her chest; she was no stranger to violence herself. The last Spectre to infiltrate the Family had given her the scar with an expertly placed sniper round, but while he had stood over her gloating, explaining just how her people would be treated upon their arrest, she had put two bullets up through his chin. Turians, she had decided that day, looked decidedly odd without a lower jaw; for all their prowess as a well-disciplined military power, they were quite the cocky bastards. She had been lucky, she supposed, to last long enough for her security teams to arrive and smuggle her to a private hospital and leave the Spectre to rot. And it had certainly caused some drama when his body was found. What was his name? It had been all over the vids during her recovery… Nihlus. Ah yes. Nihlus Kyrik. The Council had been quite upset at the loss of one of their top agents. Would they be just as torn up over the death of the first human Spectre, she wondered.

The Family was not as evil as the Council made them out to be—it wounded her unusually honor-bound pride. Yes, they specialized in political intrigue, blackmail, and protection. Yes, they were involved in multiple assassinations. Yes, they dabbled in commodities smuggling. But unlike their Terminus counterparts, they avoided civilian collateral damage at all costs. Citizens were ambivalent about the Family's activities: they were technically criminals, and yet whenever innocent people walked into a firefight, it was the _Family_ that ensured they escaped safely, not the law. True, the syndicate's methods of dealing with traitors and moles was known to be harsh and unforgiving, but as long as they stayed out of the Family's business, civilians knew they were safe. Citizens had developed a selective blindness to the criminal organization's activities and, in return, they were left alone.

Shepard sipped her wine again, savoring the taste on her tongue, and closed her eyes. Murder and fine wine… A very relaxing day, if she said so herself. She crossed one leg over her knee, absently flexing her ankle in the constricting heeled boots she wore under the fashionable, floor-length dress that covered her from the shoulder down, save for the plunging neckline to show off her scar. To say Regina Shepard had expensive tastes was an understatement, to call her a hedonist was a compliment. After all, she _had_ earned it. And what was a woman without her vanity?

"Jacob Taylor to see the Illusive Man," Tali said, voice level, and Shepard sighed, setting the glass down. Back to business, and so soon…

"Thank you, Tali. Wait ten minutes and then send him up," she replied, standing and striding toward one wall. She laid her hand against the black, reflective panel and it retracted with a hiss, revealing an armor locker. The armor was plain and bulky, built for a man of larger build and stature, but she shed the dress and snapped the plates on anyway, twisting her hair up and pulling on the helmet. The mirrored visor blocked her face and she settled back behind her desk, elbows propped on the metallic surface. Holoscreens rose behind her, displaying logistics and financial patterns, and bathed her back in light and her front in shadow.

It was only a few minutes before the door slid open, admitting an irate-looking Jacob Taylor into her office. "Illusive Man, we need to talk."

"Of course, Jacob," she replied, happy to see the helmet's in-built voice modulator worked just as well as the one on her omnitool. "What's on your mind?"

Jacob's brow furrowed and she could see his lips purse into a thin line before he spoke; it was a sign that he was trying to think carefully about his next words, a tell that whatever he was about to say, he knew it most likely earn him a frosty reception. "Why didn't you consult me before dealing with Commander Alenko? You promoted me to your security officer, so why not let me deal with a security breach?"

Shepard sat back, laying her hands flat on the desk and studied the man in front of her critically. "Is this because I did not consult you, or because you are uncomfortable with an Alliance man dying? I know you're ex-Alliance, Taylor, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't believe this is independent of your history." His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she smiled within the helmet; she had him.

"That's…" The man stopped, fists clenching at his sides. "You're right. I don't think we needed to kill him." Ah good, he realized lying wouldn't help him; those who lied to the Illusive Man tended not to live long. But she couldn't tolerate dissent.

"And in your opinion as my security officer, what would you have recommended?" She stood, helmet on level with the man's face. He fidgeted, knowing just how badly this could go for him, but remained where he was. "Well, Mr. Taylor?"

"I don't know, sir, but killing Commander Alenko was overkill."

She laughed—a sound that made Jacob flinch—and leaned forward, hands planted on the desk to support her weight. "I see. And what about when the Commander took his information to C-Sec? To the Council? Our band of merry men would be at a _severe_ disadvantage." When Jacob said nothing, she continued, "And how would you have dealt with him then? I don't have the patience to take prisoners, and I prefer not to encourage more spies. He was an example." Her voice dropped. "The Council will think twice before they send another of their goons into my home."

"I think we'll have to agree to disagree, sir."

Shepard straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. So be it, then. "I see. You feel that strongly about this, Mr. Taylor?"

"I do."

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Then I will give you two options. Either you can put this behind you—my decision has been made—or you can walk away. I will not begrudge you, if you decide to take your leave of the Family. You've been a good man, Jacob. I would hate to lose you over something like this." The sorrow in her voice sounded genuine and she exaggerated the respectful incline of her head under the armor. Disagreement was not something she could afford, and if Taylor was going to be a problem, then she needed to know about it.

Jacob seemed to consider these options carefully, eyes never leaving the armored figure before him. "Thank you, sir. I think I'll take my chance to leave, if it's all the same. I don't want Alliance blood on my hands."

"Very well. I'm sorry to see you go, Mr. Taylor, but please understand…" She discreetly laid a hand on the pistol at her waist, "After you leave here, this decision is final."

"I understand."

She waited until he had turned his back and drew the pistol. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave here knowing what you know." She fired before the man could react, watching him crumble to the floor, blood beginning to spread across the pristine tiles. With a sigh, she tugged the helmet off and opened the comm on her omnitool. "Tali, please send a clean-up crew to my office and request that Lieutenant Williams meet with me as soon as they're finished."

"Yes, ma'am," the quarian replied automatically. Shepard decided she owed some divine power a huge thank you for sending her such a wonderful employee.

"Thank you, Tali. Remind me that I owe you a raise."

"Of course, ma'am."

Shepard returned the armor to the locker, smoothing her dress back down and laid her hand on a second panel. Like the first, it retracted, but instead of an armor locker, this one revealed a second room, smaller than the first, but more lavishly decorated in deep reds and golds. A living space, rather than an office. A bed, large enough for four people, sat at the center of the back wall, flanked by tables bearing candles and flowers. Pills, pouches, and bottles were spread across the table at the foot of the bed and soft music drifted from hidden speakers. An asari lifted her head, turning to face the newcomer before breaking out in a smile.

"You're back," she purred, sitting up and letting the silk sheets pool around her waist. Her eyes followed the human woman's progress into the room as the panel closed behind her.

"I told you I wouldn't be long, Liara," Shepard replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked up a few of the pills, knocking them back quickly. "Just had some loose ends to deal with."

"Mmm, the Illusive Man is cleaning house?"

Shepard chuckled, lifting one of the velvet pouches from the table. "You tell me, Shadow Broker," she teased, taking a pinch of red sand from the bag and quickly inhaling it through her nose. It burned its way through her sinuses and she hissed in a breath through her teeth. She had maybe five minutes before the Hallex kicked in, but the red sand already had her pupils dilated and her heartrate increasing. Her skin tingled with every pulse of blood and she let her head fall back as the drugs began spreading through her system. Liara crawled down the bed to drape her arms around Shepard's shoulders and pressed her lips to the human woman's cheek.

"I was wondering how your decision to kill Spectre Alenko as an example would be received. And the gunshot?"

"Avoiding internal strife."

"I see." Liara smiled, letting her fingers wander up to thread through Shepard's hair. The human woman hummed appreciatively, reclining back against the asari as she teased a few tangles from the long locks. "I always wondered about human hair, you know. No other species has such an… interesting feature. And yours is a particularly intriguing color, Regina." The asari examined the locks, turning them over in the flickering light; the dark strands appeared black in the shadows, and the low light exposed a blood red tint.

"Oh?"

"Yes. And, I've heard, it's an erogenous zone for many as well," Liara continued, moving to scratch her nails along Shepard's scalp.

Shepard shuddered, Hallex amplifying every sensation and red sand making her hyperaware of every minute detail. "Anything else you've learned?" Her voice was barely above a breath, casting the woman a smoldering look from the corner of her eye.

Liara chuckled, removing her hands. "Oh yes, but I have to have some secrets. Information is power, after all, and I make a living out of it."

"Fucking tease," Shepard growled, turning and advanced across the bed toward her. Liara backed up until her back was pressed against the headboard, a small smile pulling at her lip.

"Ma'am, the clean-up crew has finished and Lieutenant Williams is on her way up to your office," Tali chirped, making Shepard groan. Liara bent her head to lick and suck at the human's neck and Shepard growled something unintelligible in the back of her throat.

"Yes, thank you, Tali," she finally grumbled, forcing herself away from the asari in her bed. "This shouldn't take long."

"Actually, I should be going," Liara replied, slipping off of the bed and bending to retrieve her clothing, "Can't leave my networks unattended for too long, else they think I've been ousted. Probably not dissimilar to your status as the Illusive Man." She chuckled. "I will be back, of course, Regina, but I do have my own organization to run. I'll send you a message the next time I'm on the Citadel."

"Leaving me already?" Shepard teased, standing and striding back toward her office.

"Only for the moment."

Shepard chuckled, changing back into the Illusive Man armor again. "I'll hold you to that," she replied, modulator changing her voice. Liara laughed, redoing the clasps of her jacket and moving to stand before her. They moved as one, arms winding around each other in an intimate embrace.

"Good luck, Shepard," she said quietly, "And be safe."

"I can't promise you that, Liara," she replied seriously.

Liara smiled sadly. "I know. But it makes me feel better."

Neither got to say more as the office door whooshed open, admitting a stoic-looking Lieutenant Williams. She paused, but settled into a standard parade rest when she regained her composure. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, thank you for being so… prompt, Ashley," Shepard said, arm still around Liara's waist. "I hope I didn't take you from anything pressing?"

Ashley shifted, looking between the two of them. "N-No, sir," she replied after a pause. It was clear she wasn't sure why she was being treated as an equal, and with politeness, but she recovered quickly. "I assumed it best to be punctual, given the circumstances." She was referring to the Spectre, of course, and Shepard nodded.

"Indeed. Excuse us, love?" she asked, turning to Liara. The asari smiled knowingly and moved away. Their hands lingered for a moment before Liara strode confidently out, breezing past the Lieutenant with a friendly smile. Shepard watched her go before refocusing on the woman in her office and she crossed her arms, leaning back against her desk. "Recent events have prompted Mr. Taylor to pursue a different line of work. And so, I find myself lacking a head of security." She paused. "You were Alliance once, were you not, Ashley?"

"Yes… sir." She seemed to be slow to pull her thoughts away from the asari who had just exited, but Shepard wouldn't hold it against her. The Illusive Man was not someone considered to be romantic.

"Why leave? Your service record was clean; unremarkable, but that never stopped anyone." Shepard could see she'd touched a nerve from the way the Lieutenant stiffened, jaw working back and forth. "I mean no insult, of course, but I'm merely curious. There were no reprimands, or indications you were slated for a dishonorable discharge, yet you resigned your position rather… suddenly."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course, this is not the military. I expect you to think for yourself and tell me." _Of course, I also expect you to agree with me. _Shepard didn't say as much, but it was the unwritten and well-understood rule of her organization, a rule Jacob had forgotten.

"Thank you. I got tired of the Alliance sticking me with crap postings and ignoring my achievements because of who I was." The woman paused, taking a deep breath. "I left because I knew I could do better, needed to do better."

"Why does who you are matter?" Shepard knew, of course, but building trust by appearing interested was an old and effective tactic for maintaining control and loyalty.

"You… You don't…" Ashley stopped herself and tried again. "My grandfather was… He was the one who surrendered the garrison at Shanxi. The first and only human to ever surrender to an alien force." There was an acid to her voice and she scowled. "My father never got anywhere, despite all of his work, and died underappreciated by a military he loved. And the same thing was happening to me. I left to avoid what my father suffered just for being a Williams. I have a family, sir, and a measly Gunnery Chief's salary was not enough to help support them."

"I apologize. This is clearly something painful for you, Lieutenant. And I understand. But I must also ask if Commander Alenko's death bothers you, as an ex-Alliance soldier." She inclined her head to punctuate the question and noted, with some satisfaction, that Ashley seemed to be seriously considering both the question and her words. Inspiring fear and caution in her people was a point of pride, a true indication of her power.

But Ashley squared her shoulders and stared levelly into the faceplate of the helmet speaking to her. "No, sir. He was a threat to everyone in this organization. I regret that he had to die, but I won't lose any sleep over it knowing I'll live another day."

Shepard chuckled. "My feelings exactly, Lieutenant. And so I have a proposition for you; as I mentioned, I am now lacking a head of security and, with the latest attempt to infiltrate us, I would like to have that position filled. You are a soldier, and very aware of what must be done to maintain the integrity and safety of this organization. So, I would like to offer you the position, along with the raise, office, and enforcement units that come with it. I would be very pleased should you accept, but I also know that, for someone with a family, it is a risk." Even being affiliated with the Family was a risk, yet the show of empathy was enough to make the stoic woman crack a small smile.

"I appreciate your concern, sir, but there's no need. I'd be happy to accept the position."

"Excellent," Shepard said, letting some genuine relief reach her voice. Good, the sooner any remaining holes in her organization were sealed, the safer they would be. She couldn't afford any possible weaknesses. "Your promotion will be on the next wave update. Please, feel free to get settled in your new office. Ms. Zorah will have any relevant information you require, and any concerns may be directed to her." With that, Shepard moved around her desk and took her seat. "I look forward to seeing your plans."

It was a dismissal, albeit a polite one, and the Lieutenant snapped a quick salute before taking her leave. Shepard watched her go, waited a few seconds after the door had closed to sigh and tug the helmet off. Family—real family—always complicated things. How long before Williams realized her position put her family at risk? That just being with the Family put her real family in danger? Her stance on the subject was to forget the whole business; family was a weakness that she could not tolerate in herself, and therefore, felt that her… employees—for lack of a better term—should view their own commitments and relationships in the same fashion. Her omnitool beeped plaintively and she gave it a baleful stare. _Speak of the devil._

"What, John?" she growled.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Nice to hear from you, too. I'm great, thanks for asking," she sneered, contemplating the possibility of hanging up on him.

"Don't give me that shit, Regina. You left, that was your choice." Why did he feel the need to try to be reasonable? "And refusing to come back? Our father is _dying_, and you won't come back to see him, just for an hour?!"

She had wondered when they would find out about that, but her frustration and disinterest made her insolent. "Give me one reason why I should, John."

"Because he's our father!"

"That's not a reason, that's an excuse. He's the one who pushed me away and made me miserable, why should I give him any of my time?" Her lip twisted into a scowl and she rose from her chair to pace across the length of her window. "I didn't get off that pisshole planet just to come crawling back because _Daddy_ asked nicely."

"Will you please just get over your damn pride for once in your life?!"

"No!" She was shaking now. Adrenaline coursed through her body, mingling with the drugs in her system, and she pressed her advantage, riding the rush of chemicals to add strength to her words. "You can tell your damn father that I'm not coming back."

There was a pause and, when her brother spoke again, it was a sullen, desperate whisper. "Please, Gina."

Shepard grit her teeth angrily, fists clenching and unclenching as pulses of blood made her skin tingle. "Don't call me that."

"He wants to apologize."

She scoffed. "He only wants to die with a clear conscience. And it's about fifteen years too late." She shook her head and pursed her lips. "I'm not coming back, John. I don't care what he says, he's still the same bastard that…" Her throat tightened, but she forced it away. No, damn it, she was _not_ going to be weak. "If he wants to apologize, then he can apologize to Mom."

"That's low, Regina," John started but she laughed, callous to his pain.

"That's life, my dear brother. If he loved our family so much, he wouldn't have pushed her so far she had to kill herself to get away from him." Silence greeted her and she sighed. "You always did want to see the best in him John, even when he showed you just how twisted he was, right in front of your face."

"I was thirteen, Gina."

Anger flooded through her and she screamed at him before she had thought about it, "And you still did nothing!" Her high had loosened her tongue, slowed her judgment, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying more, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn it, _this _was why family always complicated things. "I'm not having this conversation with you again, John. When you decide to take off the rose-colored glasses, tell me, but until then, I have business to take care of." She cut the call before he could say anything more and glared out at the bustling metropolis. She should have just hung up on him as soon as she'd picked up the call, saved herself the trouble… Their conversations were never surprising, they never deviated from the same topics and progressions, yet she kept giving him a chance to tell her something different… Why? She could never think of a good reason; she didn't care about familial love and devotion—she had none—and yet she couldn't sever ties with her brother the way she had her father. Maybe, she always told herself, there was still hope for him, yet she could never be sure of that. Was it worth trying?

She shook her head and returned to her desk, pulling up the holoscreen to check the updates of their latest shipments.

* * *

The entirety of C-Sec was silent as the video cut out, leaving nothing but static and white noise. No one made a sound, all eyes still riveted to the empty screens. They had all just witnessed a murder, and not just a run-of-the-mill murder down in the Wards, but the murder of a Spectre. That knowledge hung oppressively over the entire force.

"Officer Vakarian, my office!"

Pallin's voice cut through the air like a knife and Garrus jerked his gaze away from the screens to see the Executor staring down from the top of the stairs leading to his office. The man's expression was blank, but barely-bridled fury rolled off of him in waves and Garrus cringed internally. This was not going to be a fun conversation. Damn the Family. Fearful stares settled on him as he trudged toward the door Pallin had just stormed through, trying to ignore the muted whispers as he passed. Did they think he was getting fired? The Family wasn't even his case, Chellick was the one who was supposed to be helping the Spectre before he had gone missing over a week ago…

He stepped into the Executor's office and immediately felt the charge of the atmosphere; Pallin was glowering into the middle-distance over the tops of his interlaced fingers and Chellick was standing off to one side looking like he was facing a firing squad. Oh, this was going to be _fantastic_. Garrus's mandibles twitched nervously, but he forced himself into a strong stance, hands locked behind his back.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"What are you going to do about the Family?"

Garrus blinked, sure he had misheard, and looked to Chellick. The Family was the detective's case, why was the Executor asking him? But Chellick was staring at the floor, jaw tight; that wasn't a good sign.

"Sir?"

"I need you to begin an investigation into the criminal syndicate known as the Family," Pallin said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child, and fixed Garrus with a hard stare, "The Council will want to know that we've made progress into stopping them, especially now that they've lost another Spectre. So, what are you going to do?"

"I thought Detective Chellick—"

"Officer Chellick is no longer on that case," Pallin cut in tartly, and Garrus could see Chellick flinch, "I need your full attention on this matter, so you have been removed from the patrol roster and transferred to the Investigation Unit. An office will be made available to you."

"But I'm still working on the Saleon case, I might have a lead on—"

"The Family is your top priority, Detective. Forget the salarian. The Council wants something done about those criminals and, until they are stopped, you are to devote all of your time and resources to bringing them down, am I understood?"

Garrus bristled, but held his tongue. It was unorthodox, but he'd finally gotten the promotion he'd been chasing for years. But at what cost? No one else cared enough to stop that salarian bastard, and he was just supposed to let it go? Chellick knew more about the Family than he did, why not leave him on the case? Yes, his investigation had hit a snag, but he was far more familiar with the case. _But he got a Spectre killed._ That had to be it; the Council was pressuring Pallin to punish Chellick and get results. Damn them.

"Yessir," he finally bit out.

"Good. I suggest you start immediately." That was it. No congratulations, no good luck, just a nod and a dismissal. Great. Garrus cast a sympathetic look in Chellick's direction before making his escape; he didn't want to be around when Pallin finally started dealing with the other officer. Sure enough, as soon as the doors had closed, Garrus could hear Pallin begin tearing into the other turian detective and flinched; he wouldn't wish that tongue lashing on his worst enemies.

But, Pallin wanted results, and he wanted them yesterday, so Garrus knew he didn't have time to think on it. His strides were long as he started back toward his desk on the main floor. The labyrinth of furniture and officers was abuzz again, people shouting, answering calls, and waving datapads frantically; he wouldn't miss the commotion of the public office space. From what he could gather of the chaos, a lot of people wanted to know what C-Sec was going to do about the synidcate's latest actions; lots of damage control. He was glad he wouldn't have to deal with _that_ part of the investigation anymore. Still… did he even want this case? C-Sec had been after the Family for years—he was sure his father had dealt with them when _he_ was in C-Sec—and yet they still knew next to nothing about the elusive syndicate. The Illusive Man was still firmly in power—whoever he was—and, if anything, their operations seemed to be expanding, growing in strength. What could he do to stop them that hadn't already been done? He haphazardly threw the contents of his desk into a box, earning a few inquisitive glances, as he was lost in his thoughts. What was Pallin expecting him to do? Crack the case wide open in a day? Chellick had been working on the case for _months_ before the Council assigned the Spectre to help—even after the first Spectre, Nihlus, failed—and they _still _knew next to nothing. Damn it, this was a hopeless assignment! He was going to fail before he'd even started!

"Pallin gave you the boot, huh?"

Garrus looked up sharply and the human officer gave him a sympathetic nod toward the box. Oh. He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"Sorry Lang, but you can't get rid of me that easily. Pallin's moving me to Investigation, wants me to take over Chellick's case on the Family." Even saying it out loud didn't sound real. Why did this have to happen now?

Eddie Lang raised a brow. "Really? He's probably giving Chellick a good ass kicking." At Garrus's grimace he shuddered. "That bad?"

"There isn't enough medigel in the galaxy." Neither said anything for a moment before Garrus spoke again. "Chellick will probably be down here once Pallin gets through with him, best not to mention… any of this."

"Shit, Pallin demoted him too? I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised but… Damn. The Council must want his head, bad."

Garrus nodded, tossing the last of his personal effects into the box. "Well, I've gotta… Spirits, I don't know. Figure out where to start, I guess." He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do.

"Well, if we can help you, Garrus…" Eddie shrugged. "Let us know."

"Sure thing." Garrus gave a small twitch of his mandibles into the turian equivalent of a smile and Eddie returned it.

"Good luck, birdman."

"You too, pyjak." They shook hands briefly before Garrus made his way back out of the chaotic throng and up toward the Investigation Unit's offices. Up here, the chaos was muted and distant, each office a self-contained universe devoted entirely to solving one specific crime. How many of them were looking into the Family, as he had been tasked to do? He caught sight of a salarian maintenance worker fussing with one of the doors and drew nearer; it wasn't the door he was working on, but the nameplate. Chellick's name fell from the wall with a dull clang and the salarian set about affixing Garrus's name, complete with his new title, in its place. And yet it didn't fill him with any sense of pride or accomplishment; it felt hollow. It was then that the salarian noticed him staring sullenly at the plate and offered a smile.

"Congratulations, sir."

Garrus could only grunt absently as he stepped into the pristine space. Chellick's belongings had already been cleared out, yet Garrus still felt as if he were trespassing. Why assign him to this case? He'd clashed with Pallin over the investigation into Saleon—hell, Pallin had told him to quit if he hated the restrictions so much—so why promote _him_? He set his box on the desk and sighed. The idea of starting from square one on this case made him want to bang his head against the wall, but instead he threw himself into the desk chair and cued up the console. Immediately, all of the data and files on the Family began downloading and he stared as document after document popped up. Well, it was better than square one… With a sigh, he settled in for a very long read.

* * *

**Let me know what you guys think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally got around to adding to this story (thank god)! I can't even tell you how much fun this story is and how much I wish I had more time to write it.**

**Greenyoda987 is the greatest individual for editing for me even when she's extremely busy!**

* * *

As the call drew on, it was becoming more and more clear to Shepard that this wasn't going to be easy; the call was meant to merely be a business discussion, yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain neutral, despite her best efforts. Her brow furrowed and she set her head in her hand for a moment as the woman on the line chattered on. She cared nothing for political bleatings that had no impact on her, her people, or her business and this conversation addressed none of those.

"For the last time, Ms. Lawson, I will not associate myself or my organization with Cerberus," Shepard cut in, her voice booming through the modulator and drowning out the woman's words, "This call was a courtesy but if you insist on pushing the issue of working together, it will become much less so. My organization deals in profitable enterprises, not human-supremacist politics."

"Yes, I noticed that when you killed the first Human Spectre," Miranda replied tartly, "However, I must insist that you reconsider your position. After your latest… achievement, the Council is sure to label you as a terrorist organization."

"There is a difference between terrorism and scare tactics, Ms. Lawson. Something you and your people would be wise to learn. But, until such a time, this conversation is over. Consider this my final communication with Cerberus."

"Illusive Man, wai—"

Shepard cut the connection with a satisfied smile. The last thing she needed was to be allied with Public Enemy #2; being Public Enemy #1 was more than enough. That, and she took a sick sense of triumph from infuriating the insufferable Cerberus leader. There was nothing petty about that, was there?

"If it helps, ma'am, I would have done the same thing."

Shepard chuckled, "I'm sure, Tali, although there would be a bit more cursing in your version, correct?"

Now it was Tali's turn to laugh. "Of course, ma'am. No offense, but they represent the worst of humanity." It was well-known that Cerberus was well-hated among the non-human members of her organization, yet many of the human hearts and minds Cerberus sought to win within the Family remained unconvinced.

"I happen to agree, so none taken," Shepard said as she rose, glancing at the time on her omnitool. She swore and bolted for the adjoining living space. "Tali, have a car arranged to meet me outside the building, and another at the Venture Investments headquarters."

"You forgot about the C-Sec Benefit Ball, didn't you, ma'am."

It wasn't a question and Shepard quickly threw on the dress she'd purchased for the occasion, a smirk pulling at her lips. Time had gotten away from her, it seemed. "It may have slipped my mind, yes." She peered into a mirror and grimaced, scooping up a make-up bag and plopping herself down on the low vanity seat. She could hear Tali sigh theatrically as she swept a bit of blush on her cheeks and laughed. "I'm sure our dear friends in law enforcement will forgive me if I'm a little bit late to spying on them." Eye shadow and liner, mascara, what was she forgetting…

"The cars are waiting, as you requested, ma'am. I have also infiltrated security checkpoints to confirm that you are not followed."

Lipstick! How could she forget… "Excellent. The last thing I need is one of these C-Sec goons tailing me back here. And, my calls—"

"I have already set them to forward to your office. Your omnitool is off our communications grid until you return."

"You're a saint." Shepard double checked her reflection and, satisfied that she looked the part, strode toward the door of her office in a swirl of skirts. "Have the private elevator ready for me?"

"Already done, ma'am."

It was a wonderful thing to be in charge.

* * *

Three days… Garrus had made it three days before Pallin dragged him out of his office to make nice with the politicians. Complaints that he had an investigation to run fell on deaf ears and Pallin told him he _would_ be at the C-Sec Benefit Ball, and he _would_ shake hands with the politicians, and he _would_ get over it. And so, the newly promoted Detective Vakarian found himself staring listlessly at an endless sea of the wealthy and privileged of the Citadel, chatting over expensive champagne. Hell, he hadn't even known such a gathering existed until Pallin had shoved his invitation into his hand. And of course, the Executor had tried to tell him that taking a break would help, that he needed to clear his head and come back to it; Garrus disagreed. He could be studying the Family's methods, looking for a weak link, but instead, he was stuck smiling politely at people with far too much money and giving them polite, politically correct answers to all of their stupid and inane questions. Maybe he could shoot himself and get it over with…

He tugged absently at the collar of his dress uniform, contemplating just how much of a reprimand he would get if he just took off the jacket, but decided against it. Best to stay on Pallin's good side in case he needed warrants and man power. Spirits, what he wouldn't give to be out on patrol instead… Yes, patrol was annoying and usually ended with filling out paperwork for numerous drunken disorderlies, but at least it was interesting. This was just… mindless. And if he had to stand there listening to someone's fake compliments with a gormless expression on his face for one more second…

An asari approached and shook his hand, congratulating him on his recent promotion—the way she said it, he could tell she'd been talking to Pallin—and asked if he'd made any progress. He gave her the practiced, "C-Sec" response: we're making headway, but unfortunately all developments must remain classified until judicial action can be taken and blah, blah, blah…

She chattered at him for a moment more before excusing herself and he sighed. He needed something _much_ stronger than champagne if he was going to survive this ridiculous evening. Maybe there was a bar…

He almost cheered when he caught sight of the white-suited bartender across the room and began weaving his way toward what he prayed would be his salvation. He'd made it only halfway when he made hard contact with another person and staggered back. The human woman he'd crashed so gracelessly into rubbed her shoulder with a delicate wince before looking up at him. It took only a second before she smirked and offered her hand.

"I see you're not quite used to the… political side of your promotion, Detective," she joked quietly, eyes laughing.

Huh. Well, this was interesting. Anyone else here would have yelled at him to be more careful and behave more like an officer of the law, or something equally archaic, but not this human. And that was enough to make her intriguing. "I see you've been speaking to the Executor, then," he replied, taking the offered hand. Her grip was firm, but not crushing and after giving his hand an obligatory shake, she released it.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," she replied with a chuckle like falling water. Her eyes seemed to glow as she appraised him and she reached up to trace the newest stripe on his shoulder. "The other ones are faded, whereas this one," she informed him with a catlike grin, "is not."

_Well_ then. He couldn't help a small smirk. "Perhaps you should be the detective, Miss…?"

"Shepard, please," she replied, taking her hands off of him. "Regina Shepard, I—"

"Run Venture Investments and make very significant donations to the C-Sec Retirement Fund," he finished for her, mandibles twitching wider into a smile. Maybe this _was_ fun…

"Very good!" She looked ready to say more, but glanced away quickly before looking back to him again. "I apologize, I'm sure I derailed you from something _very_ pressing, at the speed you were going. Don't let me keep you, Detective…?"

"Garrus Vakarian. Garrus, please, I haven't quite gotten used to being 'Detective Vakarian' yet…"

"Of course, Garrus. Enjoy your evening." She gave him one last indulgent smile before gliding away.

Garrus's eyes followed her until he could no longer keep track of her in the crowd, and even then he didn't move right away. Well… At least someone here was interesting… He gave his head a slight shake and returned to his previous objective of investigating the bar, leaning on the polished surface heavily.

"What can I get you, sir?" the human chirped helpfully.

"Strongest thing you have that won't kill me," Garrus replied dryly.

"Not your scene, hm?"

Garrus chuckled and accepted the glass of… Hm, turian brandy. Very nice. "That seems to be the common conclusion," he answered, taking a sip. The alcohol burned down his throat and he hummed in appreciation. "Thank you." He turned to face the room again; perhaps he would find that Shepard woman again…

Shepard slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding in acknowledgement to the various greetings. There was one bit of business she needed to take care of before she focused on C-Sec…

"Joram!" she greeted warmly, laying a hand on the turian's arm. He jumped, but relaxed when he saw her and inclined his head. "How are you?"

"Ms. Shepard, very nice to see you, as always," he replied, but she could see his attention was elsewhere; his eyes darted around, scanning the crowd behind her, and his hands knotted and unknotted reflexively.

"Is everything alright? You seem… distracted." She plastered a concerned expression on her face, but inside she was grinning.

"Hm? Oh, yes, well… It's nothing for a fine lady like yourself to be concerned with, I assure you. I… If you'll excuse me? I have an urgent matter I must discuss with the good C-Sec officers." He spun and hurried away quickly and Shepard let a small smile break on her lips. It seemed that the anonymous threats had quite the impact on Mr. Talid… Excellent. She sipped her champagne to hide her smile and scanned the room again. Perhaps that would teach him to openly campaign against humans; she was sure he wouldn't risk continuing his candidacy now. That wasn't to say she was a human-supremacist—she'd already told Cerberus to take a hike, hadn't she?—but the Wards were the Family's home, where she did business… She couldn't have someone promising to end organized crime where she lived and worked. Oh no, that would never do.

She could see the Executor a few circles of people away and began picking her way toward him. And now for her favorite part of the night…

Garrus caught sight of the unique shade of Shepard's hair over the crowd and watched with growing interest as she headed toward the Executor. Oh, this was going to be interesting… Garrus knew all too well just how Pallin felt about humans, and Ms. Shepard, it seemed, was going to find out the hard way. He didn't _want _to see her fail at… whatever she was trying to do, but at least it would be entertaining. And he was sure she would come out of it no worse for wear. Hopefully. But his expectant expression fell as she approached and the Executor turned to face her with a smile. Um… What? They shared a brief hug and she pressed her lips to his cheek in that weird gesture of affection humans had a habit of doing in public. What in the hell was going on?

"Venari, how are you?" Shepard gushed as she planted a light peck on his cheek.

"Regina, a pleasure as usual. I have been better. I'm sure by now you've heard?" He sipped his drink as she nodded.

"I have. I also ran into your newest detective. Literally, actually." She laughed at his stricken look and laid a hand on his arm. "Oh, don't look like that. I'm fine, see? Not a scratch!"

"I apologize, I forget Detective Vakarian is a bit overeager and… unlearned in the finer points of high society."

_How very dignified,_ she thought snidely, but shook her head. "Oh, no. He's lovely. Really, much more interesting than that other one… Oh, I forget his name. He was here last time." She gave an apologetic smile as she gestured vaguely with her free hand. "My memory isn't what it used to be." Of course she remembered Chellick, but she was merely a business woman in the Executor's eyes, not a tactician. Best to act like it.

"I understand, though you're too young to be plagued with the troubles of the elderly," he teased and she laughed. "Unfortunately, Officer Chellick is on patrol tonight and could not be joining us."

_Well maneuvered, as always. _Yet she knew what the implication meant: Chellick was demoted for failing to stop her and losing the Spectre. Hm. Pity. But this was a dance she was very used to: make nice with the Executor, act _very_ interested in C-Sec's work, promise another donation at the end of the quarter, wish him well, drink, laugh, repeat. "Oh. Oh I see. How very unfortunate. Does it have anything to do with that video feed? Dreadful business."

"It does, you're very astute. Perhaps I should hire you instead of new recruits."

"Your detective said the same thing, you know. Maybe I'll give up my life of luxury and join the force, fight crime, catch bad guys." Her smile said she was kidding and he laughed.

"Send me your application and I will make it happen. We could use all the help we can get."

Shepard nodded, cradling her elbow in her free hand and sinking into her hip. "I've heard. The Family is really giving you the run around?" She furrowed her brow and scowled. "Surely _someone_ knows something about them?"

"You know I can't discuss that with you, Regina," he scolded but she looked up at him entreatingly.

"Please, Venari, you know me. It gets so boring up in my office; I like to live vicariously through your investigations. Humor me?" She tapped her lip contemplatively. "_Hypothetically_, what would help your investigation?"

Pallin looked ready to argue, and she wondered if he would finally put his foot down—she knew just how lowly he thought of humans—but he sighed. The benefit of donating very large sums of money was that the people receiving said money tended to be very forthcoming with information when asked. "If we could get someone inside—one of ours, not a damn Spectre—we could make progress, even figure out who the Illusive Man really is. Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course. Why haven't you done that?" She knew why, but best play the fool. Who was Regina Shepard to know anything about the Family?

And Pallin went along with it; who was he to suspect a devoted donor? "Their security is highly advanced, almost militaristic. And technologically, we've never seen anything like it. You heard the voice modulation, yes?"

"It left a horrible static on my translator," she said with a grimace that still managed to look pretty.

"It's a side effect of the process they use, which is far above anything C-Sec has ever dealt with. And that's just one example." She made her eyes properly wide and he nodded. "Until we figure out their next move, or find a crack in their organization, we're in the dark. And, more likely than not, our inside sources have been eliminated. I wouldn't be surprised if the Illusive Man cleaned house after he discovered the Spectre."

_Inside sources, hm? Interesting._ She hadn't considered that the Spectre had help, but now that she thought about it, she should have assumed so. C-Sec was getting creative. Well, one more thing for her new head of security to look into. "I see. That seems… rather extreme."

"They _are_ criminals, Ms. Shepard. I doubt they see it that way." The smug way he said it made her blood boil, insulted at the implication, but she carefully composed her expression to hide it as she sipped her drink again.

"I see… How terrible."

"I agree, but it doesn't make it any less true." He looked down as his omnitool beeped and raised a brow. "You'll have to excuse me, I have something I must take care of."

"Of course. Give my best to the missus?"

"As always."

As always… Oh, if he knew. She watched him go with a thinly disguised smirk, placing her empty glass on a passing server's tray. It was always a twisted sense of accomplishment that drove her to attend these events, the smug victory that C-Sec was actually helping her evade them. She almost felt bad for them. Almost. They'd killed enough of her people to quash that feeling.

"How did you do that?"

She turned and smiled up at the new detective. "Garrus, how nice to see you again."

"The Executor, I… I don't think I've ever seen him smile…" Garrus' mandibles were twitching and she was sure his mind was turning over and over trying to justify it.

"You mean because I'm human," she stated and he cringed. "I know of his feelings about my species, Garrus, don't act so uncomfortable. The Executor and I have developed a friendship, of sorts. I give him lots of money, and he ignores the fact that I'm soft and squishy. It works well and we avoid any political fall-out."

Garrus's brow furrowed—as well as it could with plates—and he gave a vague hum. "And what do you get out of it, if it's as mutually beneficial as you make it sound?"

Shepard's smile widened; she liked this detective, he might actually prove to be a challenge. She glanced around and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, "Can you keep a secret?"

What in the… Tentatively, he nodded and she grabbed his hand, towing him toward a balcony; it gave him time to actually look at her—he told himself it was just his officer's training, needing to be aware of his surroundings. She was shorter than he, but that didn't mean much. She seemed to be about as tall as most human men, and she had a presence about her—which he was sure had drawn him to find her again. The dress she wore seemed to float and swirl around her as she walked, the fabric almost as light as air, and the same color as champagne. Her arms were bare and her hand, he was late to realize, was soft against the skin of his wrist. He was sure she was pretty for a human, if the covert glances from the males of her species were any indication, but certainly not his cup of tea.

When they reached the balcony, she released him and went to stand at the railing, looking out over the Presidium. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Was she avoiding the question? "I don't know. I spend so much time chasing criminals through it, I can't help but think of them and not what I see." He moved to stand beside her and she looked up at him.

"Spoken like a true C-Sec officer," she said with a chuckle. "I can see why Venari promoted you." Garrus's eyes widened when she used the Executor's first name and she grinned. "You seem surprised."

"Just… yes."

"I was too, the first time he asked me to call him by his name. But, we didn't come out here to talk about him. You asked me a question." Her expression took on a melancholy look and her smile no longer reached her eyes. "Why do I give so much to C-Sec?" Garrus nodded and she lifted the long waves of her hair and turned her back to him.

Garrus had seen plenty of terrible things in his time patrolling the Wards; he knew exactly what kind of things happened to people. But he had never been confronted with it so suddenly. Long, criss-crossing scars trailed from the back of her neck down her back, exposed by the low-plunging fabric of her dress and he inhaled sharply. He didn't want to ask—what made them, or when, or why—but he knew there was a reason she would show him. There was always a reason. "What happened?"

"My father and a belt," she replied, tone stony as she let her hair fall again. Now that he knew they were there, he could still make out the lower-most marks and he felt stupid for not having seen them before. She turned to face him again and ran a hand absently along the high neckline of her dress. "I burned dinner." She kept her expression properly neutral as his mandibles slackened in shock. Good, he was falling right into her ploy; oh, the story was true enough, but she had moved on. Yes, she hated her father, and yes she hoped he died slowly, but it was behind her. Yet it always helped to make them feel sorry. Sympathetic people were more forthcoming. Chellick had been a harder nut to crack, but Garrus was turning out to be putty in her hand.

"I… I'm sorry, I…" He stopped himself, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides. "When?"

She could see him struggling to keep himself in check and gave him a sad smile. "A long time ago. I was… Fifteen, I think." She shrugged. "My mother had killed herself when he refused to get a divorce and I was supposed to keep the house in her stead. I wanted to go to school, but I couldn't do both."

Garrus was sure he looked ready to kill something, but he didn't care. That… This was exactly why he had joined C-Sec, to stop things like this. "Where is he?" he growled.

Shepard shook her head, as if to tell him to forget it. "Dying back on Feros. I left Zhu's Hope as soon as I could." She sighed, but inside she was grinning. Oh, she could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle. "The point is, I donate so much to C-Sec so the same thing doesn't happen to another little girl. I like what I do, Detective, but I don't get to help people, not the way you do. And while I sit up in my penthouse offices, weighing financial risks and contemplating buying new sculptures, you and your colleagues are out making the Citadel a safe place. I know there are officers who have given their lives to protect civilians, and the least I can do is donate large sums of money."

Garrus wanted to press the issue, wanted to find out anything he could about this… monster whom she had the misfortune of calling "father", but he could tell that she was trying to steer the conversation in a new direction and followed her lead. She was the donor, and it was her terrible past; he would talk about whatever she wanted to. "How _did_ you get Venture Investments started? Last I checked, Zhu's Hope was a small research colony established by Exo Geni Corporation."

"You mean how did I get enough money to start a company if my home is nothing more than rocks and prefabs?" She smiled to assuage his discomfort with her brutal honesty and continued, "Please, Detective, I know where I came from, no need to sugar coat it. I had nothing when I left, stowed away on a transport ship to Benning, then Virmire. I joined a small survey team there doing research—I don't remember what they were looking for, but I cooked and kept the camp while they were out." She chuckled. "And don't worry, the irony isn't lost on me. But, they left to go exploring and left me to set up camp again, and while I was alone, I found something."

Garrus hadn't realized he was leaning toward her, enrapt in her story until she turned to look at him again and he shifted his weight back again, coughing into his hand. "What was it?"

She let out a huff of laughter and looked back out over the Presidium. "At the time, I had no idea, but I knew it was valuable. I bundled it up in my things until we got back and sold it to the highest bidder. Then a bunch of professors and researchers from Serrice University on Thessia started contacting me about it. Apparently, I'd found a Prothean data cache—nothing groundbreaking, just some logistics for farming and mineral mining—but where they came from was of the utmost importance. They paid me twice as much as I'd sold the disks for, just to know where I'd found them." She chuckled. "I doubt it did them any good, but at the time, it wasn't my problem; I had 6 million credits, and I knew I could make it more than that."

"So you started an investment firm."

"Actually, no. I tried to open hotels, but couldn't get the permits. So, I took my money, sat on it, and after a while, people started coming to me looking for funds for their projects." Shepard smiled at the memory and leaned over the railing, a light breeze lifting errant locks of her hair.

Garrus regarded her curiously for a moment before speaking. "How did you know what would be profitable for you?"

"I didn't. But the proposition is of little importance, really." She laughed at his shocked expression and turned to face him. "If a man does not believe he can revolutionize the average man's way of life with his creation, he cannot succeed," she said sagely and chuckled, "I've consider having that carved into my lobby's walls. It would save me plenty of time, I'm sure."

Garrus leaned an elbow on the ledge, facing her in his casual stance. To say she intrigued him was an understatement at this point. "You really don't care what is brought to you, so long as the person bringing it forward is confident?"

"Confident, yes… But I care about passion far more." Her eyes sparkled and she gestured toward him—his uniform—as she continued, "Take you, for example. Whether you know it or not, you have been interrogating me—although very politely—because you are passionate about what you do. You are an investigator, and you investigate things. I would be shocked and insulted if you _hadn't_ been so interested in my tale; what kind of detective doesn't care to know everything they can? But that is what makes you good at your job, Garrus, and why Venari selected you to head his highest-priority case."

It was a compliment, in a round-about kind of way, but it still made Garrus want to puff out his chest in a show of pride; he resisted, but he had been tempted. "I'm flattered, Ms. Shepard, but he regards you with far more esteem than he does me."

"Only because I give him lots of money," she replied cheekily and straightened, but let her hands linger on the railing.

Garrus couldn't help but chuckle and nod his agreement. "Speaking of which, you two seem a bit closer than… business acquaintances?" Was that even the right word to describe their relationship? He had seen the… he didn't know what it was called, but humans only seemed to do it with people they were involved with, and it was considered very intimate. The Executor surely knew the implications, right?

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, you… Well, the thing… Humans do it with their mouths and… ah…" He floundered for a moment, suddenly standing ram-rod straight and she laughed lightly.

"Ah, you saw me kiss his cheek, then? And you're worried I've ensnared your dear Executor into some lecherous affair with my human wiles and lack of plating, is that it?" Her expression glowed with barely contained laughter and Garrus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Oh, he was awkward and adorable, in a bumbling kind of way. This would be fun, if he was to be chasing her.

"Well… No… maybe…"

"Don't worry, it's nothing like that. He merely tolerates my presence and incessant questions. His mate and I go for lunch every weekend, as well. What you saw…" She held up her hands and grinned. "It's an old human tradition of greeting respected friends and family with a kiss. Purely platonic, so unfortunately, there is no fodder for gossip and speculation."

Garrus sighed, visibly relaxing and it only served to make her smile grow. "Ok, good… I mean, right?" She just kept smiling at him and he looked away. She was nothing like the other politicians and benefactors here, and he didn't know how to deal with her. Yet he _wanted _to, that was the strangest part. For the entirety of the evening, he had been plotting how he could escape with his sanity, yet now he merely wanted to speak with her for as long as she would let him. He did _not _have a thing for humans, she was merely… interesting. He could honestly say he had never met anyone like her. "I apologize, Ms. Shepard, I'm sure I've kept you from something far more important than indulging my curiosity," he finally said evenly, but she merely raised a brow.

"We _are_ looking at the same gathering, are we not? There is very little important or even interesting at these events, but as a donor to C-Sec, I am obliged to make my appearance," she said with a grin that made him relax. "Regina is just fine, Garrus, and believe me when I say this is the most fun I've had at one of these events in a very long time."

He couldn't help but doubt that, not when their conversation had started with such a grim topic, but he returned her smile amiably. "Fair enough, Regina, but it looks as if they're ready to start with the toasts and honors, and I'm sure Executor Pallin would take pleasure in disciplining me for keeping you." He offered his arm and she took it with a mischievous smile.

"Venari was wrong about you, you definitely know your way around high society," she mused as they returned to the bustling ball room. "I'll have to thank him for promoting someone charming for once."

Charming, huh? He hummed in agreement as the Executor mounted the stage that had been erected and moved to stand behind a podium. The microphone gave a small burst of feedback before falling silent and he tapped it experimentally. Again, it screeched and fell silent. Pallin's mandibles flexed as the conversations in the room fell silent.

"Thank you all for coming, and for showing your support for C-Sec and the devoted officers sworn to protect and serve the Citadel," he started, earning a quiet round of applause. Garrus watched Shepard settle into her hip and join in, but there was a secretive amusement about her expression. "It is with great pleasure that I saw that C-Sec has been able to increase its presence throughout the Presidium and Wards, and cut crime by fifteen percent in this year alone—largely thanks to your generosity and continued sponsorship."

Shepard arched a brow, but clapped along with everyone else again. Fifteen percent, hm? They must have had _immense_ success with every other case, because her operations were largely untouched… Or was he merely trying to give his faithful money machines something so they thought their investment was worth it? If it was the latter, she had to give him credit; people were whispering amongst themselves and she could see that many were impressed. It was working.

"And, we have been able to expand benefits for officers who have retired or been injured in the line of duty. More than two thirds of C-Sec's retirees have found fulfilling civilian work largely thanks to the support and services they receive upon retirement, thanks to programs funded by your donations." His eyes found hers in the crowd and Shepard smiled, nodding in acknowledgement. She didn't hate C-Sec—they were good men and women—but they did get in her way and she could not tolerate that. But their elder officers, and those who were wounded and could not return, they had done nothing to her, and could do nothing to stop her. She felt no conflict in helping those who would otherwise go without because of physical or mental damage done in the line of duty. Applause rose up again and she joined in a bit late; Garrus was regarding her curiously out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing and she was glad of it. Best he think she was lost in her thoughts anyway.

Names, honors, and awards were read, presented, and applauded ad nauseum and Garrus was beginning to wonder if it would ever end; his eyes were beginning to burn and weariness was beginning to settle over him. How late was it? How long had he been there? The artificial night of the Presidium outside did little to indicate the hour and so he remained where he was, grimly smacking his palms together for every stuffed-shirt to whom he was called to be grateful to for his job and resources. Ugh, he hated these stupid events.

"And, finally, I would like to acknowledge and extend a special thank you on behalf of all of C-Sec to someone who has never hesitated to share their wealth in an effort to help those whom she feels deserve it."

Oh no. Shepard's expression fell and her eyes widened. What was he _doing_?! She glanced around quickly, wondering if she could run, make an escape before he dragged her up there. She couldn't have people studying her that closely; it was one thing to infiltrate C-Sec's circle, it was another thing to be studied by everyone in attendance. What if someone made her? Caution was her greatest ally and caution demanded that she not get on that stage.

Garrus had concluded that Pallin had been drinking shortly after his long speech and list of honors had begun, but now it was becoming all too clear. His posture was relaxed and easy—almost cocky—as he stood at the podium; people laughed at his dry jokes and he smiled easily with each round of applause. Pallin was drunk—not tipsy, or buzzed, but drunk—and no one had the heart to drag him off the stage with his honor intact. But it was Shepard's sudden change in posture that caught his attention. What was she—

"Regina Shepard, come join me!"

Damn him. Shepard blushed and waved as casually as she could. "You're doing just fine for the both of us!" she forced out with a strained smile, but he gestured her forward anyway. She let a grimace sneak onto her face before plastering on a smile.

Her strides were stiff and reluctant as she approached and Garrus nearly burst out laughing. A socialite who hated attention? Oh, she _was_ strange. And, he had to admit, his kind of human. Even if she looked like she was walking to the firing squad.

Shepard stepped up and was immediately embraced around her shoulders and tugged to the Executor's side. "Ms. Shepard has been a generous donor to C-Sec since establishing Venture Investments… Spirits, has it really been eight years?" He looked down at her with a grin and she patted his shoulder in a playful and reassuring—and fake—gesture. "Well, far longer than I can care to admit. I've become an old man while she has managed to remain young and successful." Shepard's blush darkened and he continued, "But, what you all probably didn't know is that Ms. Shepard wasn't always so wealthy and prosperous. From nothing came Venture Investments and Ms. Shepard, rather than hold on to her wealth, has willingly and frequently donated to see my officers are taken care of after devotedly serving the station they call home. And I can think of no better way to thank her for her constant support than what I am about to announce. As of this year, pensions and benefits will be funded by the Regina Shepard Officers' Fund."

Applause rang out, but Shepard felt like the floor had fallen out from under her. Oh, damn it… Damn it, damn it, damn it… This was _not_ part of her plan. Scheming, spying, and subterfuge, yes, but being dragged on stage and acknowledged? Immortalized in C-Sec's records as a donor? Not part of the plan! She was sure she looked like a deer in the headlights, but couldn't make herself move. Pallin leaned down to whisper something in her ear, but she didn't hear, merely nodding and laughing; that always seemed to be the appropriate response at these events. She plastered a fake smile on her face as the applause stretched on an on, cameras flashing over and over. Damn him, he had planned this. He had planned this and she hadn't known; that was the worst of it, she was supposed to know everything C-Sec was doing—every plan, every action—and yet she hadn't known about something as minor as _this_?! The clapping finally began to quiet and she politely excused herself, making her way down the stairs on the side of the stage and then weaving her way through the throngs of people still listening to the Executor; she retreated out of the ballroom, out of the lavish hotel, and out to the streets, only stopping once the sounds of the event quieted. She hadn't realized she'd been running until she stopped, her breath coming in heavy pants. The cool air brushed over her fevered skin and she sighed, tilting her head back and trying to breathe deeply. How much else didn't she know about C-Sec? This was… unnerving. Alarming, even. How could this have slipped through her information networks?!

"I see you're not used to the political side," a flanging voice behind her said and she spun. Garrus leaned against the hotel's entry, grinning and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure this is very funny to you, Detective," she replied dryly.

"A little. But I find it more fascinating than funny," he said, moving to stand beside her, "You're probably the only person in that room who was embarrassed to hear Pallin call their name and tell them how great they are."

"I'm not that great," she mumbled, a model of humility. She _was_ that great, but she didn't want C-Sec saying so. She wanted the news feeds, the people, the _galaxy_ saying so. But being honored by C-Sec… It felt like betrayal, though she had never felt that way about it before. Huh, maybe she did have a soul…

"I can't make judgment on that, but I will say you're the most… genuine person in that room." Garrus shrugged. "I'd say that's more than enough, but then again, this isn't my natural environment."

A small smile pulled at her lip. "No, your preferred habitat has more shooting and less hand-shaking, I'd wager," she teased and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Guilty. Take me away, I'll serve my time."

Now she laughed and he grinned. "You're very strange, Detective," she told him bluntly, "But I like it."

"Thank you, I think. If it matters, I think you're strange and likeable too."

Shepard looked back down the streets with a smile. "Perhaps we'll see each other again, Detective. I could use a laugh every now and again. Maybe over coffee?"

"Is that what you humans drink?" he asked, feigning disgust and she covered her mouth to muffle a giggle, internally chiding herself for letting her guard down. She wasn't supposed to be so… undignified in front of her enemy; she wasn't supposed to _like _them. "I suppose I can do that, though forgive me if I pass in favor of something more… non-lethal."

He had wit, she would give him that. And if she was going to be facing down anyone at C-Sec, if push came to shove, she'd rather it be someone who can deliver a clever one-liner. "Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey look, an update! Rare, huh? I know, I know, I'm sorry. I'm trying to be better.**

**Anywho, less action, more feels/development this chapter.**

**Greenyoda987 is super awesome for helping me out with this chapter a million times over the month or so I've been sending it to her incomplete.**

* * *

Shepard's heels rapped a sharp staccato on the polished floors as she stormed through her headquarters. "Tali, I'm coming up," she barked into her omnitool as she smacked the elevator call button.

"Of course, ma'am, is everything—"

"No it is not!" She stepped into the elevator and jammed the button for the floor below her own. Her expression darkened as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited impatiently for the lift to reach its destination. This was a disaster. Not entirely catastrophic, but this was still not acceptable. Oh no, she was going to figure out what the hell was going on. She couldn't afford lapses like this; they watched C-Sec like a predator watches prey and they had still missed the Executor's plan to name a trust fund after her. How in the hell had they missed that?! What else had they missed if something so small had gone unnoticed?

The doors opened with a cheerful ding and she strode out, down a narrow hallway flanked by one wall and a glass enclosure.

"Did something happen at the Benefit?"

Shepard stopped and turned to face the wall of glass, meeting Tali's gaze with a scowl. The quarian wilted a little and Shepard couldn't help but immediately feel guilty. It wasn't her fault, and she was the most loyal agent Shepard had; with a sigh, the human ran a hand over her face.

"You could say that."

Tali tilted her head only slightly and blinked wide, feline grey eyes at her in confusion. Not for the first time, Shepard was reminded that, under those environmental suits, quarians had a certain elegance about them; Tali had an open, innocent look to her, with high cheek bones and a delicate pout. Her skin was a pale lavender that Shepard envied, interrupted only on the back of her head by black feather-like crest similar to turians' fringe. Where a human would have been soft, she was angular, yet the curve of her waist and hips would have put many to shame. The sari-like robe she favored wrapped around her torso and fell in soft waves of purple silk to the floor. Tali wrung her hands absently, turning perfectly manicured nails over and over and causing the cuffs of coiled gold around her wrists to catch the light; a similar cuff circled her neck.

"I don't understand…"

"I've found out some… disturbing things about C-Sec. Some things that we should have been aware of. And I'm worried that some information is slipping our networks." Shepard raised a hand. "I'm not saying it is your fault, I'm merely saying I want to know how they've kept this from us."

Tali's eyes were wide with shock, but the emotion soon faded as her brow furrowed. "That's…" She spun and retreated back to her wall of console with a whisper of fabric across the floor. "That's impossible, there's no way we could have missed anything." Her hands flew over the consoles, eyes locked on the readouts flashing on the numerous screens.

"Executor Pallin mentioned inside sources, and being worried they had been eliminated," Shepard added and Tali froze.

"Bosh'tets." Her fingers flew into motion again. "How dare they!" The exclamation was out with a stream of muttered curses and her screens flashed messages faster and faster. Shepard understood her anger, but couldn't think of anything to say to her. "I'm scanning for any bugs or monitoring viruses, and unauthorized firewalls. There has to be something!" She slammed a hand on her desk with a growl and Shepard realized that this wasn't just a job to the quarian, but her pride. Someone had mangled her life's work, and they were going to pay if Tali had anything to say about it. "I'll have this sorted out Shepard, I promise. By tomorrow," she finally said, swiveling around in her chair, facing Shepard once again, an indignant expression plastered on her face.

"It's alright, Tali. I'm going to have Lieutenant Williams look into this in the morning; there's little we can do with our people spread all over the Citadel right now. When they return, we'll do something about it." She paused and sighed. "Perhaps I was a little over hasty in sending Mr. Taylor away so quickly."

Tali gave her a sympathetic smile as she stood. "You did what you thought was best, ma'am. I'd say it was the right decision."

Shepard chuckled. "I appreciate that, Tali. If there's anything you need…"

The quarian shook her head with a smile. "Shepard, you have given me far more than I ever could have asked for. My job, this…" She gestured to the room around her and chuckled. "I can live outside of a suit—probably the only quarian who can say that—and it's thanks to you. If either of us should be offering favors, it should be me."

The room. It covered the entire floor, save for the hallway where Shepard stood, and operated as a self-contained hyperbaric chamber. Pure air went in and everything else was sterilized at regular intervals by minute UV pulses. It had been an ordeal to find an engineer willing to construct it, and even harder to find someone to approve the experimental sterilization protocols, but it had been done. And the look on Tali's face when Shepard had shown her… Shepard smiled.

"You've earned it, Tali, a thousand times over. And I take care of my people." After a brief pause, she added, "If anything comes up, be sure to—"

A sound from the adjoining room caught her attention and Tali stiffened. It sounded awful lot like a man's voice… Shepard grinned knowingly and Tali immediately held up her hands.

"I swear, Reegar can't hear us, Shepard. I had the rooms soundproofed and—"

"Relax, Tali. I know. I trust you." And she did. Tali was her most loyal agent and the only person she felt she could count on with knowledge of her identity and the inner workings of the Family. Her expression softened and she waved a hand absently. "Let me know what you have tomorrow morning. And… have a good time."

Tali visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Shepard," she said as a blush darkened her cheeks.

The human woman nodded in reply and quickly showed herself out; somewhere deep in her gut, she was jealous. Jealous of the peace Tali had, jealous that she didn't have to hide behind a name and a mask… jealous that she could live. A low sigh escaped her as she returned to the elevator, closing her eyes as the artificial gravity attempted to tug her down against the elevator's lift. Maybe she could call Liara… No, no, she had a job to do… An act to keep up. They both did. The doors slid open with a light chime and she forced herself out, into her office. The lights remained off as she glided through the darkness; here was where she had murdered her share of men, of traitors and spies. It wasn't a place of business, it was a killing ground. She shook her head as the hidden panel slid open and the bedroom—her only space—glowed in the light of dying candles. All but two had burned down, their wicks smoldering, and the atmosphere had gone from sensual to sinister. Dark.

Shepard kicked her shoes off and began peeling the gown off of her body, leaving each garment in a trail to her bed. Alone. Two Hallex went down easy, but the red sand burned through her nostrils and she grimaced against the pain; she'd be surprised if she didn't start getting nosebleeds. But as the tingling feeling spread from the top of her head down through her body, her concerns melted away in a rush of chemicals. Her pulse pounded in her fingertips; a humming vibration ran down her spine. She sighed and fell backwards onto the silk sheets, the luxurious fibers sliding along her skin. And yet it did nothing to change what she felt in her heart. She was lonely.

Her head lolled as she lifted her omnitool, sifting through the various screens, back alleys, and rabbit holes she'd set up until her personal contacts appeared. Here, there were only two entries: John and Liara. The line opened, buzzing in its infuriating way until a velveteen voice answered: "Hello?"

Shepard stared up at the gilt-patterned ceiling as one of the remaining candles flickered out, leaving her in almost total shadow. Why had she called? She was lonely, sure, but that was normal. It was a lonely job, sitting on the top of the mountain. Yet she had signed up for that. She had known it from the beginning. She had seen what it had done to the Illusive Man before her—it was how she had gotten so close—yet sitting in her room, alone, the isolation finally hit her. She had no family. She had few real friends—maybe only one. And for all they pretended to be in love, Shepard knew that if she died, Liara would miss her, but she would carry on. And the feeling was mutual. A warm body to keep the loneliness away… that was all they were to each other, when push came to shove. She wanted more. And yet she wanted nothing. She had climbed to her place at the top by severing all ties; she cared for no one else. Everything she did, she knew she cared for no one; she would protect her people, but that was duty with no emotion. Feelings… Did she even have them anymore?

"I miss you."

* * *

Garrus shifted the Executor's arm over his shoulder, knees protesting under the older man's added weight. He huffed out a breath as they continued down the empty stretch of the Presidium. The man had drunk far too much, and it was up to his "top officer" to escort him home safely. More like carry him…

"I'm fine, Vakarian," Pallin slurred, "I can make it back my—"

He stumbled and Garrus hauled him back up again. "With all due respect sir, no you can't," he retorted dryly. Even if Pallin remembered this the next day, it would be unlikely it would ever be brought up again; being drunk at his own event would no doubt be very embarrassing for the Executor. "Your apartment shouldn't be far." Pallin grumbled something indistinct and Garrus rolled his eyes. Best to keep him talking to be sure he was still awake… "How long have you known Ms. Shepard?"

Pallin laughed, listing to one side until Garrus tugged him back on track. "Ah, she got o you too?"

"Got to me?" Garrus scoffed, bumping the door control of the Executor's complex with his elbow.

"She gets to you," the elder insisted, "makes you curious. You can't stay away." When Garrus shot him a skeptical glance Pallin snorted. "Oh not like that, she's just magnetic. I don't like humans, but she's alright."

Garrus gave a light chuckle. "Is that why you named the fund after her?" he asked, steering Pallin toward the elevators.

"No, she donated over 5 million credits, _that's_ why," Pallin retorted, stepping back from the younger turian to lean against the wall as they waited. "But, if anyone deserved it…"

"She didn't seem thrilled," Garrus pointed out, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. Maybe he should let the subject go… The way Pallin was starting to grin like a lecherous old man—wasn't he, though?—was beginning to make the younger officer uncomfortable. It wasn't anything like _that_, he just wanted to know…

"She hates attention," Pallin finally answered as the elevator dinged its arrival, doors sliding open. "Strange, isn't it? She attracts so much, but it almost scares her."

Garrus followed him in, keeping an eye on the older man to make sure that he didn't fall over and brain himself on anything. Like the floor. "You're close?"

Pallin snorted. "Hardly. We talk business—C-Sec fascinates her—and she and the missus go for lunch. But you two seemed rather friendly."

There, the grin was back and Garrus shook his head, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "It's _nothing_ like that, sir." When Pallin's grin didn't fade and he merely raised a brow, Garrus scowled. "I don't have a… a human fetish, or anything like that, sir," he bristled.

Pallin laughed. "Of course not, traditional boy like you."

Garrus's expression was one of shock. Since when was Pallin _sarcastic_? He quickly composed himself, though. "Well, she said she wanted to see me again, but I'm not—"

"Vakarian, you will see her again, dammit!" the Executor cut him off, pointing a finger in his face. "She is our biggest contributor; if she wants to see you, you go. If she wants you to get on your knees and call her 'Your Highness', you do it and kiss her feet while you're down there!"

The elevator opened again and Pallin went to stride out, tripping over his own feet and forcing Garrus to catch him again. With a sigh, Garrus helped him down the hall to his apartment, knocking. After a brief pause the door opened, revealing a turian woman bearing the same marks as the Executor. She was a bit shorter, only reaching Garrus's shoulder, but the way she stood in the doorway, one fist propped on her perfectly sculpted waist made Garrus feel like he was a child again. The Executor's wife glowered at her mate, but sighed and opened the door wide, gesturing for Garrus to bring him in.

"Thank you, Detective. I'm sorry you had to bring him all the way back over here," she said, voice betraying her exhaustion. She followed as Garrus moved to sit the Executor in a large armchair, adjusting the gauzy robe around her body.

"It's no trouble, ma'am," Garrus replied automatically. Really, it was a pain in the ass, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Well, I'll be sure he remembers that he owes you his thanks in the morning. Good night, Detective."

With a grateful nod, Garrus showed himself out. But as he began the journey back to his own apartment, he found himself thinking. Really, he was too busy with the case to be catering to the whims of an eccentric benefactor—and it sounded a bit too much like prostituting himself for the Executor's benefit for his liking—so how was he supposed to tell her that? Other than his preoccupation with stopping a crime syndicate, he had no real reason to refuse to see her… How could he politely decline an invitation to see her again?

But… But he did want to see her again… She was interesting, and maybe he did need a break every now and again. Even after being dragged to the event, he was in a much better mood afterward than he had been in days. It wouldn't hurt to get an outside opinion now and again, if she was as interested in C-Sec as Pallin said… He didn't have a thing for humans, anyway so _that_ would never be an issue. Huh. Maybe he would see her again…

He looked down at his omnitool, intent on sending her a message, but paused when he saw the time. 0200… It could wait until the morning.

* * *

**I promise, more espionage and cloak-and-dagger-y stuff to come!**


End file.
